self defense
by user-name-here
Summary: muggle studies never was so exciting... oneshot.


He fucking infuriates me. He makes it a point to make my face flame brighter than my damn hair. Why does he take pleasure in proving the theory that redheads are short tempered? Just today Potter was trying to force himself o me. Again. For the 547th time.

We were in Muggle Studies (now why would I need that?) and we were learning how to defend ourselves the muggle way. Bit odd, yeah? Well, it was a piece of cake for me, considering I had done Taekwondo before Hogwarts and continued it during the summer. Oh, and the fact that I have experience of fending off Potter every time he tried to assault me helped too.

So Professor Scrub (honestly, I started laughing when I heard his last name. All I could think about was: _Scrub a dub dub, three men in a tub._ Bad mental image.) was walking around, making sure that we weren't strangling each other. We were, after all, a class that had quite a few Slytherins (how surprising… probably going to use their knowledge to go undercover as a muggle for Voldy) Many people couldn't really get it. Really now, how hard is it to twist someone's bloody arm or knee them in the balls if they're a guy or flip someone who's about fifty pounds heavier?

He decided that the class needed a good demonstration, and since I was of the few girls who could perform the techniques, he called me to the front of the class.

"We'll need a male?" He didn't even need to beg for volunteers. Mr. Airhead also known as Potty stuck his hand straight up into the air.

I groaned inwardly.

"Excuse me? What did you say Ms. Evans?"

Damn. So much for _inwardly_. I plastered on a smile. "Just psyching myself up, Professor."

Potter had the stupidest, goofiest smile as he made his way from the back of the class up to the front. He was like a kid in a candy store. If he thought I was some sort of candy or that he'd be getting a free pass on me, then he thought bloody wrong.

We stood facing each other only a foot apart. His dumb, idiotic smile had turned into a devious smirk. I bit my tongue, refraining myself from saying something hostile. I was Head Girl, after all, and I didn't want to initiate a fight.

Yeah right. He asked for it.

"Now class, ladies, watch how Evans will defend herself. Evans, ready? Potter, you may advance in any way you want."

He got an evil glint in his eye. I prepared myself for the worst groping, grabbing, and pulling from the man-BOY (he may _look_ like a man, but he's most definitely a _child_) that I hate.

"Today, Potter," I hissed, for he still hadn't made his move. Not like I wanted him to touch me. In fact, I didn't mind at all that we were just a foot away. I mean, I just didn't want him to touch me. But heck, if Scrub (haha!) wanted a demonstration, I was going to give him a bloody good one. I could totally hurt Potty and say it was an accident because-

Mmmph. Mmmm… Fuck. What the bleeding hell? His lips were pressed up on mine. I tried to push him away, but he just wrapped his arms around me tightly. I could faintly hear Black cat calling and the rest of the Marauders and their followers snickering.

A brilliant idea occurred to me. Why not use my feminine side? Oh ick. I think I feel a press up. Stupid male anatomy.

I opened my lips and just as I expected, his tongue delved in, instantly trying to explore my mouth. At once I brought my teeth down. Eugh, right? But I was desperate to get his lips off me. I didn't care how fucking soft they were, or how he smelled like green apple (which, by the way is my new favourite scent in the world).

He yelped and immediately jumped back. You'd think being bitten on the tongue wouldn't be a new thing for him considering that he sticks his tongue in every whore in Hogwarts' mouth. _I hope you bleed_, I thought viciously. Only he can make me think malicious thoughts. Oh well, what's done is done.

I wasn't finished with him yet though. I quickly prodded him on his throat causing him to choke and possibly gag on his on blood. Once again, eugh. I should tell him he needs to shave better. At point-blank, you could see a faint stubble. Okay, that means I'm _way_ too close to him.

I tried to wrap up the demonstration as fast as possible. One quick grab on the arm, twist it behind. He somehow overpowered me (or is he double jointed? In which I have to say is incredibly sickening.). No matter. I used his weight and my back to flip him onto the hard stone floor with ease.

And just for the record, I stomped on his balls. I didn't want him to continue the Potter line.

"Harry!" I heard him groan quietly.

Ew. Did he just? That is disgusting if he named his balls.

Anyway, I dusted my hands and straightened my uniform. I bowed mockingly. My Taekwondo teacher would be irked but hey. I won over the prat. "Nice try, you perv," I said, looking down at him.

"Was worth it," he grunted. "Being that close to you."

I had forgotten that we were still in class until Professor Scrub (a dub dub, three men in a tub. I need to stop thinking that.) exclaimed, "Bravo! Well done! Though I do think the end wasn't really needed, but I'm sure that if it were a real situation, it would be acceptable. Mr. Potter did a good job of making an unexpected move." At this I snorted. Yeah, he did make a 'move' alright. "And well done Ms. Evans! The police force could sure use you! Thirty points to Gryffindor!"

Kingsley Shacklebolt raised a hand.

"Yes?"

"What's a police?"

What a dolt. We went over this last class.

I went back to my seat, stepping over Potter who was still on the floor. "Ow." He murmured. I had a sudden urge to just straddle him and start punching his gut out.

But I didn't.

And so it's midnight now, and my lips are still burning. Not burning from Potter's 'enticing' kiss, but from his rancid lips. Yes. His rancid lips.

Yes. James Potter is as sexy as fuck. I mean, is sexy as a fucking troll.

So, why do my lips keep burning?

Because James Potter is a sexy troll with rancid lips who smells like green apple.

I punch my pillow. Thank God I have a dorm all to myself. Honestly. I make no sense at this time of night. I should go to bed and sleep on it.

Tomorrow the blaze on my lips will be put out. And by morning, I most definitely won't get my sentences mixed up. Because really, blazing lips and incoherent thoughts are extremely un-Lily-like.

Good night then.

_James Potter_.

Shut up. Screw James Potter, okay?

_Okay. Screw him then_.

No! Not in that way!Not screw as in…screw… but screw as in… forget. Since when did I start having split personalities?

I'm gonna kill Potter for this. It's his fault.

_Yeah. Fuck him to death. He deserves it._


End file.
